podfic: attack of the killer pie filling from outer space

[unamaga]

School starts, uh, TOMORROW, which is. Unexpected. In my mind, I knew this Friday was an important day in some way, but I think I just put it down to new Stargate Atlantis, thus proving once and for all that, to me, "excitement" and "utter dread" are entirely interchangeable emotions! Rock. This is going to be awesome, guys, just you wait and see.

In light of my utter failure at life, I'm declaring comment amnesty! I'll definitely get to fic comments eventually - possibly I will pencil it in for Saturday morning - but otherwise I'm not making any promises because, woops, I suddenly have responsibilities again. Also, my lip is split.

To compensate, because I keep a freakish tally in my head against all the amazing fandom gives me and how much I should try to give back: the stumbling, inexpert podficlet I did for kashmir1 last week to get myself geared up for Plenty of Paper, which is horrifyingly difficult to read aloud.

Link to download the podfic


Unamaga: AND THEN there was the Pie Debacle, but we won't go there
Kashmir1: oh oh but i think we MUST

When the door to the apartment swung open under John's hand, he was expecting to see their living room how he'd left it a few hours before: messy, books strewn across every available surface, only challenged in their dominion by the various take out boxes and dirty dishes they hadn't gotten to yet this week.

What he got instead made him drop his bag of groceries and clutch his chest to make sure he wasn't having a heart attack.

"Hi, John," Rodney said sheepishly, covered head to toe in flour and random bits of gooey - well, John wasn't sure what the gooey stuff was, but it smelled a lot like apple pie filling, and wow, Rodney'd really outdone himself this time. "This...isn't what it looks like."

"You say that every time I come home to find one of your cooking fiascos in progress," John reminded.

Rodney held out a finger in what was probably meant to be a gesture full of authority; the smudge of batter along the nail and the curved way Rodney was holding it to accommodate for the gook smeared along the back of his hand took care of that. "But I always clean up," he pointed out. "You never have to do anything."

John carefully closed the door behind him, making sure to turn the key in the lock. If Rodney had managed to create something actually living this time, he didn't want it getting out of the apartment and wrecking havoc on Boston.

"What were you trying to make this time?" he asked, despite himself.

Rodney ducked his head, chewing on his lower lip like a child who's been caught with his hand in the Nuclear Explosions jar. It was ridiculously endearing, especially when his nose scrunched up in a sneeze and flour went everywhere. Not that John would ever admit it.

"I was - just going to make some pie," Rodney sniffed, as if this were something he did every day and not at all worth John's attention. "I followed the recipe very carefully, I don't know what went wrong."

John sighed and took off his shoes, settling them next to the door; his socks came off next, and then he rolled his jeans half way up his shins, undid the cuffs of his button down and rolled them up too, and headed into the kitchen to check the damage. It wasn't too bad, as far as these things went - definitely further down on the scale than that one time they'd both tried to cook at the same time. No way they were getting that security deposit back. But, still, the scope of the blast was pretty impressive. At the center, an electric hand mixer was sitting very innocently on its side.

"Tell me you didn't try to pimp this thing out, Rodney, please," John said sorrowfully.

Rodney peered around the door frame, wincing. "I...thought it might work better if I fiddled a bit, you know? The filling was getting caught between the hooks and it was very annoying. A little speed should have helped, right?"

"This is why you don't get to play with nice things," John said.

Unamaga: THE END.
Unamaga: oh, wait, no
Unamaga: Then Rodney apologized for getting dough and filling all over John's nice kitchen (WITH HIS MOUTH) and John forgave him for it, helping him clean off the flour (WITH HIS MOUTH).
Unamaga: the end.
Kashmir1: \o/

Comments

[unamaga.livejournal.com]

win! <3